


for click-tap hearts

by inkk



Category: Red Band Society
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:54:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3678336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkk/pseuds/inkk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which there are boys, pancakes, electric blankets, coffee and love (but not necessarily in that order).</p>
            </blockquote>





	for click-tap hearts

**Author's Note:**

> the RBS fandom definitely deserves some love, so... here's my contribution...  
> I don't think I screwed anything up too bad, but by all means let me know if I can improve! :/

Jordi wakes up at 4:30AM, an electric guitar version of 'Bohemian Rhapsody' blasting from his phone's speakers ( _what the hell?_ ).

His flatmate, Mike, groans, and he takes this as his cue to flail around and risk phone-screen-induced blindness to turn it off. He rolls off of the lumpy mattress, landing on the cold floor with an undignified _smack_ , then struggles to slip into a (relatively) clean shirt and jeans. He pulls on a thin hoodie and a toque before he slips out the door, then, on second thought, returns to grab a jacket as well.

The bus station smells like cigarettes and despair, and the early-morning crowd is abnormally small and grumpy today. Still, Jordi dutifully stands and strums out a melody on his crappy, beat-up guitar, continuing to sing even as his toes freeze off one by one.

An older gentleman slips him $30 and says "Stay warm."

Jordi smiles back at him, and plays with a little more energy until he packs up at around 11:00. He carries his guitar case over his shoulder and stops to play in a nearby park for a couple minutes, then eventually finds his way back to his shitty little apartment to pay Mike last month's rent.

Jordi still has $7 left by the end of it, so he buys himself a gritty coffee that has a vague aftertaste of cat piss. He doesn't have anything to do, so he walks around the city with his guitar and visits some of the people that he's met over the years. He does a brief duet with Jazzy Jeff (saxophone, on the corner by McDonalds), exchanges gossip with Miss Jackson (cello, over by Martin's Bar and Grill) and uses up his supply of corny jokes on Brittany (violin, at park bench closest to the fountain in that one park that nobody knows the name of). 

At around 2:00, Jordi spends his remaining $5.50 on a grilled cheese and fries at a very shady-looking food truck. There are two provided tables, both of them looking like they could give you tetanus if you looked at them the wrong way, but he chooses the less rickety option and relaxes his sore legs as he eats. A couple minutes later, a guy sits down across from him and asks him if he'd like to come play at his café for a bit tomorrow morning, which is seriously cool and Jordi immediately tells him yes. They end up discussing bands and movies for the better part of an hour.

He leaves with a smile on his face, but on the way back to his apartment it starts to rain. Hard. Which basically stomps all over his good mood with soccer cleats.

It's been a long day.

 

+

 

 _I should get a job_ , Jordi thinks to himself, taking a long drag off of his Mike's joint as Sesame Street plays quietly from his crappy little TV. _Like, a real job. One that has a certain time that you show up for and leave at. And, like, a stable pay rate. Maybe a cubicle. I like cubicles._

"Cubicles," Mike slurs from beside him, and Jordi realizes that he's probably talking out loud again. "Heheh. Cuuuuuubiclessss."

They sit there in silence for a moment, listening with rapt attention as a blue puppet with an afro starts tapping on a desk and creepy pink puppet breaks into a song about a duck. 

" _Quackety-quack, said the little old duck!_ "

Mike giggles, pointing at the tiny screen and taking another drag.

" _Chicken told the duck that he had bad luck. Baaad luck, to be born a duck!_ "

Jordi frowns, his eyebrows pulling together. _He_ has bad luck.

" _The duck hung his head down, walked away. Chicken wouldn't even let the little duck play! Told him that he didn't even know how to cluck. Baaad luck, to be born a duck!_ "

"Hey," he says loudly, getting to his feet. "Stop being mean to the little fucking duck!"

The room spins and he stumbles a bit, catching himself before he can fall. He giggles, snatches what's left of the joint from Mike's grasp, and brings it to his lips. He tosses the nub on the floor and grinds it out with the heel of his crappy converse, ignoring the little indignant noise that Mike makes before his eyes glaze over and he continues to watch the singing puppets.

"'M goin' out," Jordi mumbles, pulling the door open and stepping out. 

He trips on the small stoop and giggles to himself, walking down the dark alley with short, unstable steps before merging onto the main street with a stupid, loopy grin on his face. It's snowing, fat, white snowflakes that drift gently to the ground. Jordi bats clumsily at them as they fall, sticking out his tongue and laughing. He walks for what could be either a few minutes or a few hours, then stops outside of a toy store and stares with wide eyes and a wider smile.

(He's a lot higher than he originally thought - Jordi is a lightweight, and while Mike might be an asshole, his weed is always top quality.)

He then turns to continue walking, and immediately runs into someone. Jordi stumbles backwards, arms wind-milling as he falls flat on his ass and his back catches on the cold, hard concrete wall of a building.

"Oh, shit," he hears someone say, followed by a good-natured laugh, "Aw, 'm sorry, man."

The guy holds a hand out, and Jordi looks up, squinting. He frowns, eyebrows pulling together. The person he maybe slightly attacked accidentally (does this make him an attackist? Is this his _attackee?_ ) is backlit by the bright light of the street lamp, giving him something of a halo. He's got a smooth head. Like, a really smooth head.

"Whoa," Jordi slurs. The dopey smile makes its return. "You're like... an angel," he giggles. "A really _bald_ angel. Who _are_ you?" 

He reaches up and holds the guy's arms with both of his hands, tugging lightly at his sleeve.  
The voice chuckles. "Um, okay. Uh. I'm Leo," it says.

"Leeeeeooooo," repeats Jordi, tilting his head back and rolling the name around his tongue. He likes the way the L sounds in the back of his mouth. "Can I touch your head?"

The guy - _Leo_ \- sits down cross-legged on the pavement in front of him. "Sure," he says, grinning, and wow. 

His smile could light up all of New York, and Jordi just wants to wrap himself in it like a blanket. He thinks it would probably be warm, like that heated blanket that he had for, like, a month (before Mike electrocuted himself on it, threw a hissy fit, and then refused to stop blasting death metal in the apartment until he threw it out. Because Mike is a whiny asshole.)

Upon closer inspection, Leo is actually really fucking pretty. He's got light brown-ish coloured eyes that twinkle in the dark, and thick eyebrows (but not the ridiculous gross caterpillar kind). He's wearing a worn leather jacket with a soft-looking sweatshirt underneath that makes Jordi wants to crawl inside of it with him. His head is also really, really fucking shiny. 

Jordi relinquishes his hold on Leo's arm, using his hands to reach out and touch his face instead.  
Leo laughs, and Jordi can feel his smile beneath his palms. It is, for lack of a less cliché term, magical. He is completely and utterly enchanted, and he's got that warm feeling in his gut that tells him this probably isn't just the weed (or at least he really hopes it isn't).

Jordi moves his hands, stroking Leo's cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs and tracing the line of his nose with his index finger. He runs his palms over Leo's bare scalp, which is _smooth as fuck, what the hell_.

Leo just laughs, his eyes crinkling at the sides. "Oh, man, you're so fucking high, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Jordi answers, "And you're _bald_."

Leo ducks his head. "Yep."

"Oh," he says, then "My name's Jordi."

"Nice to meet you, Jordi," replies Leo. He just keeps on smiling, the fucker, as if Jordi is the funniest, most interesting person that he has ever met and he just can't hold it in. It's like his happiness is lightning him up from the inside, like a candle in a jack-o-lantern.

It's really, really fucking gorgeous.

Jordi smiles back at him, slow and lazy, one hand on the back of Leo's neck. He leans a bit closer.  
"'M so high right now," he whispers, as if sharing a secret. "But you're so god damn beautiful."

Leo's teeth flash bright white in the darkness, and he laughs yet again. "Oh, man," he says, looking down at his lap. "You really shouldn't be out here alone."

"And you shouldn't be so fucking cute," pouts Jordi. 

Leo rubs the tip of his nose, still grinning, and Jordi feels like maybe he should stop hitting on this random guy that he doesn't really even know, but. The heart wants what the heart wants. Apparently even when it's queer and also high as a fucking kite.

"Okay. Um. Jordi, do you live somewhere near here?" asks Leo, a note of concern slipping into his voice.

"My flatmate is a jerk," replies Jordi, "He made me throw out my electric blanket."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Leo says, probably far too patiently for someone sitting on the cold, wet sidewalk in the middle of the night and being face-molested by a random stranger using mood-altering substances. "But I don't feel comfortable leaving you here and I really need to help you get home, Jordi. Can you tell me where you live?"

"Umm," Jordi hums, thinking. He tries mentally retracing his steps from earlier, but his mind is otherwise occupied with a comfortable cloud of weed and Leo's smile and Leo's eyes and _Leo_.  
What's his address again? 103 Shithole Avenue? 104? _God_. He should probably know this by now. 

But, hey: in his defense, he's never had a reason to tell anyone where he lives before. (Certainly not cute boys. Or relatives. Or on job resumes.) 

"Dunno," he tells Leo.

"What?" Leo's nose crinkles up in confusion. "How can you not know where you live?"

"My flatmate is a jerk," he says again. "I need a job. Well, my guitar. My guitar is a job. 'Cept it's not really a job, 'zactly? Sorta jus' play music sometimes, an' people gimme money. I maybe got hired today."

"Okay, Okay," mutters Leo, rubbing his forehead and gesticulating with his hands. It's entirely adorable and very distracting. "I can't just leave you here," he says, and because apparently this is a shitty romance novel, "You'll freeze to death."

(It's actually a very real possibility. Jordi totally should've taken this into consideration before leaving his apartment without a jacket.)

"Mmf," replies Jordi, clambering onto Leo's lap. He curls his legs up, gripping the collar of Leo's jacket in his fists and pressing his face into his chest. "You're so fucking warm, though. Like an... outer space heater."

"Oh," Leo says, surprised. "Um."

Jordi sighs. "You smell good, y'know that? Like apples and laundry detergent and boy."

"Uh," Leo coughs, rubbing his back, "You... smell good too? Underneath the pot, that is." His smile is audible, and Jordi likes the way that he can feel Leo's voice against his body, can feel the way it buzzes deep inside his chest. He doesn't think he'll ever let go. 

"Um, Jordi?"

"Yeah?" he slurs, snuggling in even tighter. Fuck his job, fuck his lack of job, fuck Mike, fuck the world. He just wants to stay here forever.

"Can I take you home?" asks Leo, tentatively. "Um. You know. Just. So that you'll have a place to sleep for tonight, and then you can sort yourself out from there?"

Jordi brings his head up, looking into Leo's earnest, earnest eyes. "'Kay," he agrees.

Leo's face breaks out into another wide smile. "Great," he says, "It's not far."

And then a couple minutes later, "Okay, uh, Jordi? You're going to have to get up for me to move."

Jordi reluctantly rolls off of him, and Leo helps pull him to his feet. It takes them about half an hour to walk to Leo's apartment building, which is about a block or so away (this may or may not be because Jordi wants to look into every brightly-lit store window and Leo has to keep pulling him away. But he's not pointing any fingers.)

 

+

 

Jordi wakes up, curled around someone else's body. His arms are wrapped around their waist, their legs tangled together in the sheets.

 _Bed_ , Jordi thinks. _Comfy. Too comfy. Not mine. Drugs? Leo. Leeeeeoooooo. Oh no._

He must tense or something, because he can hear Leo starting to wake up.

Leo makes a few tiny little sighing sounds, then yawns and stretches a bit. Jordi is mesmerised and extremely freaked out. He's conflicted about removing his arms from Leo's waist. Should he leave? Would that be rude? What if Leo wakes up and gets offended? But would staying be creepy? What if Leo wakes up and gets freaked out? 

Scratch that, staying is extremely creepy. He's fucking _spooning a random stranger. With a nice smile. Oh god._ What should he do what should he do what should--

"Jordi?" asks Leo, his voice low and scratchy from sleep. He turns over, putting them face-to-face and probably far too close together ( _ohmygod his face is so perfect how_ ), but he doesn't move away.

Instead, he smiles. "You're a cuddly little fucker when you're high, aren't you?"

Jordi is horrified. And mortified. He wants to melt into a very embarrassed puddle right here and now.

"I put you on the couch, like, five times, but you kept on crawling back into bed," Leo continues.

 _Oh god. Oh_ god. _What the hell? How does one even end up in this situation?!_

Leo laughs, but not in an 'I'm-totally-making-fun-of-you', 'holy-fuck-there's-a-random-dude-who's-cuddling-me-in-my-sleep' way. 

"Hey, man. Jordi. Don't freak out, it's alright," he says, and okay, Jordi is completely ignoring how nice and _perfect_ his name sounds on Leo's tongue. Because that would be creepy. Creepier than repeatedly crawling into someone else's bed. 

Can he die now, please?

Jordi makes a weird moaning noise, his face flushing bright red. "I'll just-," he starts, voice strangled as he scrambles backwards.

Leo sits up, throwing the covers off and standing up. Jordi stand still, like a deer caught in the headlights. Where does he go? Should he run for the door? Is four stories too far of a fall from the window? Why is Leo standing on one leg?

Oh. Well.

Maybe it's because he only _has_ one leg.

Jordi tries not to stare, but he probably does a terrible job. Seriously? An amputee? How had he not noticed that earlier? Why is he such a jerk? Oh god. He can see the headlines now: " _BROKE TEEN GETS HIGH AND ACCIDENTALLY CUDDLE-MOLESTS KIND, UNDESERVING AMPUTEE STRANGER IN HIS SLEEP_ ".

Leo laughs again, flashing a wide smile. "Oh god," he wheezes, "Your face. I'm sorry. I'm such a jerk. Stop panicking, man."

He sits down on the bed, and picks something up from beside it. Jordi hears a few clicking noises and then Leo stands up again, this time wearing a prosthetic leg.

Jordi can't stop staring at it. He's definitely going to hell for this.

Leo snaps his fingers. "Hey. Man. Jordi. My eyes are up here," he says. He's still smiling, though.

"Oh, god," moans Jordi, "Oh my god. I am so, so sorry. So sorry. I'm never getting high ever again, oh my _god_ \--"

"Hey," Leo cuts him off, "It's fine. Don't worry about it, dude. C'mon, I'll make breakfast."

He opens the door and exits the bedroom, Jordi trailing meekly behind.

Leo's apartment is... nice. It's small, the kitchen and living room combined, with only the bedroom door leading out. He guesses the bathroom must be connected to the bedroom. There's an island with two rickety stools and a sink, and a small counter with an equally tiny stove and fridge. In the middle of the room, there is a single couch (littered with blankets and pillows from last night) and a small TV. The walls are covered with posters of various bands and athletes. It's still definitely bigger than Jordi's place, and a hell of a lot nicer. Kind of... homey. Cozy?

"You like pancakes?" asks Leo, bending down and pulling things out of a small cabinet.

Jordi's throat is dry. "Um. Yeah?" he replies uncertainly. "You don't have to...," he trails off.

Leo stands up and turns around, spatula and bowl in hand. He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow at Jordi.

What he wants to say is something along the lines of 'You've been really nice, Leo, but I think it's time for me to go.'

What actually does end up emerging from his filthy, traitorous mouth is: "Can I.. uh... help?"

He's rewarded with another one of Leo's pleased, happy grins that lights up the whole room.  
"Here's a bowl and a whisk," he instructs, handing them over, "Mix together an egg and a cup of milk."

 _Right_ , thinks Jordi. _Egg. Milk. You can do this. It's not that hard._

Cheeks burning, he cracks the egg on the side of the bowl and plops it in. His hands tremble as he pours in some milk and whisks the two together to form a goopy, light-yellow substance.

"Alright," grins Leo, holding out a tablespoon measure. His hands are lightly dusted with flour. "Now add in two tablespoons of vegetable oil."

Jordi scans the ingredients on the counter, quickly finding the appropriate bottle and adding in precisely two tablespoons. So far so good.

"Okay, now pour it into the middle of mine, and mix 'em up," Leo tells him, beckoning him closer.

Reluctantly, he approaches. Leo's bowl is a combination of all the dry ingredients, with a well in the centre of it. Jordi pours his bowl of ingredients in the centre, accepting a proffered spatula to scrape the sides of the bowl and stir them together as Leo pulls out a beat-up pan and places it on the stove to heat up.

He laughs, and Jordi whirls around. "Hey, man. Chill. Don't look so nervous. If I was going to murder you, I don't think I'd ask to you help me make pancakes first."

"Free labour?" Jordi asks weakly, then adds, "Maybe you're incapable of cracking eggs."

Leo's eyes crinkle at the sides. "Okay. Well, um. That part _is_ pretty true. But I'm still not going to kill you."

Jordi gives him a small smile, handing over the bowl of batter. Leo pulls out a ladle (from God knows where - _how does he keep all this stuff in one dinky little cupboard?_ ) and scoops some into the pan. It makes a satisfying sizzling sound, and the smell of pancakes fills the air.

Leo reaches up to the cupboard and pulls out two plates, placing them in Jordi's hands. "Forks and knives are over there," he says, pointing at a previously unnoticed drawer and cupboard beside the sink, "and I think syrup might be in there." 

He turns back to the stove to flip the pancakes. Jordi pulls the drawer open rather tentatively ( _It's a fucking_ drawer, he chastises himself. _There aren't any snakes in there. Or spiders. Oh god, what if there are spiders, what if-... Okay. Alright. Fuck. Just set the table and like a normal, un-deranged person_ ). Inside, there are three knives, two forks and one spoon (and no spiders.) (Or snakes.) (Or bloody knives, or drugs, or guns). He notes that they are all mismatched. Maybe Leo doesn't have company very often, then.

He carefully sets the utensils down beside the plates on the counter, then returns to find a bottle of syrup in the other cupboard and sets it out, too.

"Okay," says Leo, starling him slightly, "Go sit down. Let's eat."

He flips three more pancakes onto a plate already stacked with other pancakes, and sets it on the island on top of a hot pot. He moves with confident precision and familiarity, as if he makes pancakes every day. And who really knows? Maybe he does.

Jordi sits down, awkwardly perching on the stool. Leo transfers two pancakes onto his plate, and then two onto Jordi's. 

He laughs. " _Relax_ , Jordi. You look so uncomfortable."

 _Easy for you to say_ , Jordi mentally grumbles. _You weren't the one who got high and snuggled a random stranger in your sleep!_

Nevertheless, he drizzles his pancakes with syrup and takes a bite, a bit of tension leaving his body as he chews and swallows. The pancakes are surprisingly good, actually.

"So," muses Leo, "20 questions. You start."

"Do you always invite random strangers into your apartment and then feed them delicious pancakes?" Jordi asks after a moment.

"Only the cute ones," Leo replies, grinning. "But I'm glad you like the pancakes. Do you always blush so much?"

"No," answer Jordi, blushing even more, "Only around complete strangers who are really nice to me. Are you secretly an axe-murderer? Do you keep bodies in your closet?"

"No to both of those," replies Leo, then adds, "If you must know, I use a chainsaw. And the bodies are under the floorboards."

This elicits a giggle and a smile from Jordi.

"Next question," Leo continues, "You told me you play guitar?"

"Yeah," he says, his eyes flicking up to meet Leo's before returning to his plate, "I do. Have since I was really little. What's your favourite colour?"  
"Red," replies Leo without hesitation. "Last book you read?"  
"The Da Vinci Code," answers Jordi, taking another bite of pancake. "Well. Re-reading, I guess."

Leo's eyes light up, his dimples returning extra-strength as he waves his fork around in excitement. "Oh. My. God. I _love_ that book. I've read it, like, a bazillion times!"

Jordi is trying really hard to not be in love. It's not working.

"Um, last movie you watched?" he asks, in an attempt to change the subject.

"The Notebook," Leo replies immediately. "Do you like coffee?"

Jordi snorts. "Hells yeah I do. It's more of an addiction that anything."

Leo's smile is back, but with a hint of mischief. "Well, then, it's your lucky day. For you see, Jordi, I just happen to own one quarter of a coffee shop and bookstore."

"Wait," says Jordi, confused. "What?"

"Three of my friends and I run the coffee-shop-slash-bookstore thing across the street. You should stop by. It's all very hipster-y, I assure you. My friends would love you to death, I swear - I work every day except Tuesday and Saturday, so...," he trails off, hope written all over his stupid gorgeous face.

"Yeah," Jordi's filthy, traitorous mouth says of it's own accord, "I'd love to."

And then Leo smiles again, and the room gets two shades brighter. He looks at Jordi as if he's hung the fucking moon. And maybe the sun, too.

They eat their pancakes in silence for a moment, and Jordi looks around for a clock. He eventually finds one on the DVD player, and squints to make out the time. 11:30, it reads.

Realization comes out of nowhere, hitting him square in the face like a fucking brick wall.  
"Oh, shit," he says loudly, scrambling off of the stool. "Shit."

Leo frowns, standing up. "What's up?"

"Shit," Jordi repeats, panicked, "Oh god. I was supposed to- I have somewhere to be in, like, ten minutes, and I'm going to be so fucking late, oh god--"

"Hey," says Leo, calmly, "Wait a sec. Look at me, Jordi."

(He does. Leo is still gorgeous and his eyes are still beautiful and mesmerising. Jordi is still late.)

"Where do you have to be and when?"

"Um," Jordi stammers, pulling his coat off of the back of the couch and slipping it on, "Uh, a café somewhere, Broken Fork or something? I'm supposed to go and play for a while. At 11:45, shit, I don't even know where it is--"

"Wait," says Leo, smiling weirdly ( _what the hell_ ), "You mean the Broken Spoon?"

"Uh, yeah, that's it," Jordi replies, tying his shoes at a frantic pace.

"That's--" starts Leo, but Jordi cuts him off before he can say any more kind/funny/helpful things that he really doesn't deserve right now.

"Look, Leo," he interrupts, "You've been super nice and all and I'm really, really sorry that you had to put up with me like that, but I really have to go. So, you know. Thanks. Bye."

Leo just keeps smiling that weird smile, even as he closes the door and runs away.

When Jordi finally exits out onto the sidewalk (four flights is a lot of stairs to run down, okay), he looks up at the building that he just emerged from. It's tall and spindly, and painted a different colour per each floor (first electric blue, then bright pink, sunshine yellow, and finally fire-truck red). There are four puny balconies, each infested with various forms of plant life. He notes that Leo has some vine-y plants with bright yellow flowers that curl around the railings and climb upwards. The entire structure looks entirely out of place, a violent contrast to its black and grey neighbours. It reminds him of something straight out of a Dr. Seuss book. 

Now that he's out of the apartment, though, he has no idea where he is and even less of an idea of where to go. He's supposed to be at the Broken Spoon in _less than fifteen minutes, fuck, and he doesn't even have his guitar oh my god what does is one even supposed to do_ \--

"Hey!" says an angry, gruff voice, "Watch where you're going!"

"Sorry," Jordi replies automatically, glancing up.

The man that he nearly bumped into is already walking away, but his eyes catch onto something else: a wooden sign that reads ' _The Broken Spoon Coffee House and Book Emporium_ ' in bold lettering.

He approaches, but stops outside of the window and peers inside. There are a few mismatched tables adorned with festive poinsettias, and the entire left wall is covered with bookshelves. The counter is decked out with twinkling gold fairy lights.

Someone exits the shop, and Jordi ducks inside the open door after them. The thick, rich scent of coffee instantly clogs up his olfactory senses, and cheery voice calls out "Hello!" from the direction of the counter. Jordi's head snaps up.

" _Emma?_ " he asks disbelievingly.

The girl behind the register looks up at him and cocks her head curiously, causing her long, dark hair to form a sort of cascade effect off of her shoulders.

"Oh my god, _Jordi?_ " she cries, a spark of recognition flickering in her eyes.

In an instant, she's vaulted over top of the wooden counter and into his arms. They hug for a long moment.

"So... You guys know each other?" says a new voice, this time from behind them.

Emma pulls back and looks over Jordi's shoulder, frowning.

"Are you working today?" she asks, puzzled.

Jordi turns around, only to come face-to-face with a very happy Leo. "Oh," he says, for lack of absolutely nothing better (read: less dumb) to say. "Um."

 _My life is a cruel joke_ , he thinks despairingly.

Emma releases him, tugging him further into the shop by the wrist.

"Leo, this is Jordi," she says, "Jordi, this is Leo."

"Oh, we already know each other," Jordi tells her. Then immediately regrets it.

Emma's lips form a little 'O' shape, her eyebrows shooting up, and she glances in between them a couple times. Leo smirks and gives her a finger wave from the door. Jordi can feel his cheeks reddening, which really doesn't help his case.

_Oh god_ , he thinks, _I must have kicked a ton of homeless puppies in a past life to deserve this._

"Jordi and I used to be in a band together, back in high school," Emma explains, returning to her post behind the counter. "It didn't work out, though. We sort of... Fell apart, after a while."

(The whole " _Because Jordi's gay and I had one hell of an eating disorder_ " part is left unsaid).

Leo nods. "Cool."

"It's really awesome to see you again," Jordi says honestly. "You look great."

Emma smiles back at him. "So, you want anything, or...?"

"Oh, yeah," says Jordi, "I'm actually here for, uh... a job thing? I still play the guitar, and, um, someone from here told me I should come by today and play?"

"Tall, black kid?" Leo asks, coming to stand ( _really fucking close_ ) beside him. "Terrible fashion sense?"

Jordi nods. "Yeah, that sounds like him."

"Dash," Emma adds. "His name is Dash. Do you have your guitar here now?"

"Oh," Jordi replies, embarrassed. "Uh, no. Not exactly. I mean, I have a guitar..." ( _A really shitty one_ , he mourns), "but not with me? Some, er, stuff happened last night."

Jordi can feel Leo's smirk.

"No problem," Emma nods understandingly, "We have a few lying around here somewhere, I think. If you're okay with using one of them instead, I mean."

Jordi smiles, relieved. "That'd be great."

"I'd like a chai latte for myself, and one London fog for this gorgeous and talented young man," Leo says. "You gets the friends and family discount," he stage whispers.

Emma rolls her eyes, exasperated, then turns to make their drinks. Leo sneaks one arm around the counter to grab a muffin labeled "vegan carrot spice" in loopy handwriting, and she half-heartedly slaps his wrist. He takes a bite, then bounces off to the double doors behind the counter like a hyper puppy and motions for Jordi to follow.

Reluctantly, he does. Leo holds a finger up to his lips and silently pushes them open, sneaking inside. Jordi he peers through the gap, and sees that it's a rather large back room, filled with fridges and ovens and two huge tables. Another girl is standing over one of them while loud punk music plays, violently rolling dough and stamping cookies.

Actually, the girl just looks to be a very violent person in general. She's wearing all black except for her purple, flour-covered apron, and although her blonde hair is tied up in a messy bun, Jordi can still see streaks of fiery red. She looks like she could squash him like an insect beneath her big, black combat boots.

Leo, though, doesn't seem to have any thoughts of self-preservation whatsoever. As Jordi watches, he ducks down as much as possible and slinks around the side of the table opposite of the girl, then crawls under. He looks up and winks at Jordi, then reaches out and grabs the girls leg.

She screams.

Jordi screams.

Leo screams, and then runs away.

"Hide meeee," he giggles, grabbing Jordi's shoulders and crouching behind him.

Emma sighs, and hands him a mug. "One London fog," she says, smiling, then frowns. "Leo, don't piss Kara off."

Leo giggles again, then accepts his chai latte.

The girl, Kara, emerges from the back room with a rolling pin in hand, her eyes blazing like all the fiery demons in the seventh circle of hell combined.

"Roth," she growls threateningly, "You little shitstain--"

Jordi shrinks back and feels Leo do the same.

Just then, a tinkle comes from the direction of the door and they all look up.

"Oh," the man says nervously, hesitating, "Is this a bad time? Because I can come back later-"

"No, no," Emma insists, "It's fine, come on in! Can I get you something to drink?"

Kara shoots Leo another glare, then discreetly gives him the middle finger on her way through the doors the back room, presumably to either A) continue making cookies or B) bring out her collection of voodoo dolls. Either way, Jordi is scared. Death by rolling pin isn't exactly one of his favourite activities.

Leo tugs on his sleeve, and leads him over to the Wall of Books.

"Here," he says, pointing to a few guitar cases. "Have a look at these. You can play with any of 'em, except for that one. That one's Dash's. He gets pissy when you touch his shit."

"Cool," replies Jordi. "So, you want me to just... Play?"

"Yeah, sure," Leo grins, "Anything you want."

He spends the rest of the day at the Broken Spoon, sitting on a stool and playing any song that comes to mind. He starts off more quietly, but once he gets it into his head that it's not really that different from what he does at the bus station, he never wants to stop. Leo wanders over occasionally, to request different Christmas carols or clap loudly and then laugh when Jordi blushes. He sets out a tip jar for him after a while, and by the end of the day it gets surprisingly full.

Leo approaches him as he's getting ready to leave.

"Seeing as I own one quarter of this shop," he starts, sitting down at the closest table and resting his head in his hands. "I would like to hire you to play music and look pretty. Indefinitely."

"Oh," says Jordi, dazedly, "Wow. That's... Wow. Okay."

Leo grins wide enough to make the Cheshire cat jealous. "See you tomorrow, then?"

Jordi ends up coming back the next day, and then the day after that, then the day after that, and the day after that and the day after that. He comes back on Christmas, when Leo gets him an electric blanket, and again on New Years when they all get drunk at Emma's apartment and end up staying the night and have to close the shop for the next day because they've all got awful hangovers. He comes back pretty much all the days after that, as well. 

Eventually he loses track. He helps bake some days, and works behind the register on others. For once, he's actually able to pay rent on time without standing outside at asscrack-o'-clock in the morning and losing feeling in his nose.

It's a fantastic setup, actually; he gets up at around 6:00 in the morning and walks over to Leo's apartment for breakfast, then they both head down to the Broken Spoon at 7:00ish - just in time for the morning crowd.

On the days that Leo's not working, Jordi wakes up a later and goes straight to the café, and on the weekends he comes in at noon. The usual customers seem to approve of him and no one ever asks him to leave, so he just keeps on coming back.

On a Wednesday afternoon about three months later when the café is absolutely dead, Leo rushes out from behind the counter and straddles a chair in front of him, staring. His eyes are as big as saucers.

"You _sang_ ," he accuses.

Jordi blushes. "No, I didn't," he protests. (He hadn't realized that he was, anyways.)

"Oh my god," says Leo, his face splitting into a gigantic grin, "You _sang!_."

Jordi blushes harder. "I didn't mean to," he mumbles.

Leo clutches dramatically at his chest. "I've been putting up with Dash's terrible hippie yodeling all this time, and you didn't think to tell me that you can _sing_? What kind of sadistic person _are_ you?"

"Hey," Dash calls, poking his head through the doors to the back room, "I heard that! Leo, get back to work!"

Just then, another customer comes through the door.

Leo glances at him for half a second more, cocking his head slightly, then goes back behind the counter to cheerfully fulfill the lady's order.

(Maybe Jordi sings a little more around the shop after that, but maybe nobody minds. Maybe he even starts writing his own songs again, for the first time since he dropped out of college.)

 

+

 

"Why don't we date?" Leo asks, sitting down and putting his legs up on the table.

It's a warm Tuesday evening in June, and technically it's Jordi's day off but he can't really think of anywhere else he'd like to be.

He looks up from The Great Gatsby and frowns. "What?"

Leo looks at him from across the table, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms good-naturedly. "No, really," he says, "Why don't we?"

Jordi shrugs, returning to his page.

"Seriously," Leo insists, a little crease forming between his eyebrows, "I mean, I like you. A lot. And you like me, too, right?"

"Right," agrees Jordi, continuing to read.

"So why don't we?"

"Maybe it would be weird," Jordi offers. "Y'know, 'cause we work together and stuff."

"But you come to my place every morning for breakfast, and we eat dinner together all the time," protests Leo. "So it's not like anything would change. You could move in, too - I've been meaning to ask."

"Well," Jordi muses, turning a page, "You can't crack eggs. And you snore sometimes."

"I'm a fantastic snuggler, though. Admit it. And I willingly watch chick flicks with you!"

Jordi sighs exasperatedly, but a small grin slips out. "Only 'cause you're the one who wants to watch them in the first place. Now get back to work."

"Fine," Leo pouts, mock-offended, swinging his legs down from the table and standing up.

He presses a quick kiss to Jordi's temple and giggles before prancing away behind the counter to refill the supply of organic chocolate-caramel mocha cookies. 

The little click-tap sound that his prosthetic leg makes is oddly endearing.

 

+

 

"Good afternoon, my children!" Leo calls, sweeping into the café with a graceless twirl.

He presses a kiss to the knob of Jordi's spine where he's bent over his guitar, affectionately ruffling his hair as he passes by and slips on an apron before sliding behind the counter.

Jordi mumbles a greeting but doesn't look up, continuing to pluck determinedly at the strings and take an occasional sip of coffee. He's so, so close to finishing this song, and he can practically feel it itching to escape from beneath his fingertips.

He stays like that for a few more hours, finally looking up when Dash slips him a cookie. 

"Vegan cranberry corn," he adds, "New recipe."

Jordi obligingly takes a bite. "Mmm," he hums approvingly, "Fantastic. Your own?"

"Yeah. I've been perfecting it for a while." Dash shoots him a pleased grim, but makes no move to leave. "Glad you like it. Hey, are you and Leo a couple now, or what?"

Jordi glances up, smiling slightly despite himself. "Nope," he replies, "We're not. I mean, he seems to think we are, but. We're just... not."

"Well," Dash says, slowly, "Why not?"

"Dunno," admits Jordi, looking on as Leo turns the radio on soft and starts to dance behind the counter, "I kinda like to watch him struggle, though."

Dash shrugs, turning to watch. "Suit yourself. He's certainly a persistent little fucker, though."

 

+

 

Leo brings flowers to his apartment door the next morning.

"Good morning, cupcake," he smiles, leaning forward to peck Jordi on the cheek.

He's wearing a fedora, a pale yellow knit sweater with a smiling cat face on it and purple skinny jeans that are slightly rolled up at his ankles. His grey converse have little smiley-faces drawn on the toes.

"Ah," replies Jordi, like the intelligent individual he is, "Uh, be right there. I'll just. Jacket, yep. Okay. Let's go."

Something in his brain short-circuits. _What time is it? Who am I? How is it possible to look like a complete dork and still be stupidly attractive? What is the meaning of life?_

"MMMFGH," groans Mike, from somewhere inside the abyss of dirty clothes and useless junk.

Leo raises an eyebrow, but doesn't ask any questions. He grabs Jordi's hand, and they walk down the street together. (And so what if neither of them pulls away and they continue to walk hand-in-hand?)

"Thanks for the flowers," says Jordi, sniffing his colourful little bouquet.

"You are most welcome, my darling boy. I'm certain that you'll succumb to my charms soon enough," Leo grins. "Wanna come over and watch movies at my place tonight?"

"Hmm," Jordi hums, thinking. "Depends. Which ones?"

Leo shrugs. "I may or may not have rented 27 Dresses and Mean Girls."

"What about America's Next Top Model?" inquires Jodi, cocking an eyebrow.

Leo smiles again. "I've got parts one and two of the season finale recorded."

"Alright, alright," agrees Jordi, "I'll definitely be there."

They end up ordering in Chinese food and spending the rest of the night watching trashy TV.

"Nooooo," Jodi groans, his head resting on Leo's shoulder as they watch the credits roll up the screen and some weird-ass techno music plays. "I didn't want Keith to be the next top model!"

"Ugh. Will totally deserved it more," snorts Leo, poking his chopsticks around in his takeout container. "I mean, Keith is really hot and all, but his face is just so generic, you know? Will is so much more _unique_ in all his shoots. And his makeup commercial segment thingy was fabulous."

Jodi makes a disapproving humming noise. "I just feel so... Betrayed," he laments, "How could Tyra do this to me?"

"Don't blame Tyra," protests Leo, waving his free hand. "It was totally all that bitchy judge's fault. Nancy, or whatever."

They sit on the couch complain about the bitter unfairness of reality TV for a while longer, then channel-surf until they find a Grey's Anatomy rerun and trash talk everyone on the show until they fall asleep.

He doesn't know if watching chick flicks and terrible TV with his best friend/self-appointed boyfriend qualifies as a stereotypical good time on a Friday night, but it's the happiest that Jodi's been in a long time.

 

+

 

When he wakes up, there's a paper taped to Leo's fridge that reads " _WHY JORDI DOESN'T WANT TO (OFFICIALLY) DATE ME (EVEN THOUGH WE WERE MADE FOR EACH OTHER)!_ " in big pink letters.  
Below the title, there are two lists:

_Why not:_  
-I can't crack eggs.  
-I snore. (Says Jordi. I totally don't, though)  
-Jordi has commitment issues (?)  
-I might be a serial killer  
-I'm a uniped (could that be a problem?)  
-Jordi might be a serial killer  
-I might be a serial killer 

_Why:_  
-Jordi can crack eggs for me!  
-We can watch chick flicks together!-I'm a fantastic cuddler!  
-Jordi doesn't have to be afraid I'll leave because he's perfect in every way and we were made for each other!  
-He doesn't really seem to care about my ~~weird~~ awesome cyborg leg!  
-We can be murder husbands!!!!!!!!!!!  
-SOULMATES. 

Jordi smiles despite himself, then picks up a pen from the counter.  
Under the "Why" column, he adds:

_I think I can deal with your snoring._

 

+

 

_finis._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you very much for reading!  
> I'm desperate for attention, so comments and/or kudos are always greatly appreciated...  
> :)


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